The Important Things

I've done a variety of things throughout my nursing career, but I have to say that working with young, troubled teenagers presents its own set of challenges. Coming from every walk of life, the common denominator is that they each have unique needs. Some have tried to meet them through drugs and alcohol, some through sex, while others cop the "tough guy" attitude, hoping against hope that someone will see through it to frightened kid underneath. Many of them play the same games lots of kids ~ and some adults ~ do, in a bid for significance. They can be manipulative and demanding, but more than anything, they are hurting and looking for love and genuine affection.

One evening recently, a young girl refused to take her medication. Rachel (not her real name) came up to the medication counter stating she did not want to take them, because they would make her sleepy. It was a dead giveaway; she was planning to run. She had been very troubled that day, and sure enough, a short time later she broke past the front desk and was out the door before anyone could stop her. It's not an unusual occurrence; quite a few try, and a lot are successful. But Rachel had a special place in my heart. Despite her bubbly, energetic personality, she was so obviously just a scared little girl.

Protocol demanding that the proper authorities be called, it wasn't until later that evening that I was able to walk the grounds, on the off chance that Rachel might still be close by and respond. It was cold and dark and she was far from home. Where could she possibly hope to go? My search revealed nothing, and I left with a heavy heart.

I was surprised to find the next day that Rachel was back, only a little scratched up and bruised for the experience. She explained how she had stayed out until it was quite dark, then scared, cold and with no place to sleep, finally came back. When she started to decline her meds again, I questioned her intentions.
"Oh no," she assured me, I'm not gonna run again." 

Glancing down at the paperwork I was working on, I replied "That makes me happy, since it wasn't fun traipsing through the woods around the facility looking for you!"
I glanced up just in time to see the look of utter amazement spread over her narrow face. She stood completely still for the space of several heartbeats, then whispered,
"Nurse Ladonna, you went looking for me?"
I held her eye for just a moment
"Of course, Rachel, why wouldn't I?"
"But you didn't tell me you did!"
Then setting the medication I was holding down and taking her hand, I softly replied, "What else would I do? You're important to me."

Then I realized with a jolt of clarity, isn't that exactly what God does for us? Every time we decide things must be better "out there", and decide we know best; every time we throw away His provision and go our own way; every time we get scared and bolt from the path He's laid out, His stubborn love (thank you, Kathy Troccoli!) doesn't just call to us, it doesn't berate us, it goes out looking for us! And even though He may not tell us everything He is doing, He never stops looking for us because....what else would He do? We're important to Him!

Lessons From the Incubator

Lessons From the Incubator 


I sat in the bereavement room on the third floor of the hospital where I worked as a neonatal nurse. It's a small room,  about 10 x 12 feet, where people go to deal with the impossible, the  inexplicable, the death of their baby, the death of a dream. Bereavement. Such  a sophisticated sounding word, like a baby's death can somehow be legitimized  if we speak of it in hushed tones, or cloak it in grand sounding soliloquies.

The muted decorations of lavender and  green mock the deafening silence that enfolds parents who sit on the  floral covered couches holding cold, silent infants in their arms, one  last time. As I sit there, I notice a box of tissues on an end table that  screams to me of the agony of loss that no one should ever have to  face. Then I read that the tears we cry are precious to our Creator, that  He sees each of them and they touch His heart.

And in the silence of that quiet,  private room, where my own heart cried its own well of tears, I heard God  gently speak – "Don't waste pain". Don't waste pain? It seems somewhat akin to  saying "Don't waste garbage". How can you waste something that is worthless  anyway? Then I think of the mother who, upon losing her baby, declined an  autopsy, a test that might have shed light on why her baby died, and provided  insight that could have helped other babies with similar conditions. Who could  fault such a mother for not wanting to prolong the agony of her loss, but  rather simply bury her dead and go on with life as best she could? Oh, but  then I remember the mother who, through her tears upon hearing of her tiny son's fatal heart defect, requested that when the time came, his other organs be used if possible to save the lives of other babies! Don't waste  pain!

Life comes to us replete with pain and  heartache. It is one of the inevitable truths of life. We have the choice to either wallow in our pain, holding it close and shielding ourselves with it from the  rest of the world, or welcoming the healing water of Christ's love to pour over the wounded and torn places of our hearts, washing us with His love. But  as wonderful as the second choice is, there is one other choice we have before us: that is to embrace the hurt, welcoming the opportunities that the  pain brings us to create a place of refuge for others who are hurting.   How like Christ to not simply take our pain away, but to help us do something so extraordinary with it that the positive results from the painful experience in our lives outweigh the negative consequences of the experience to begin with!

What a journey of discovery, to realize that the God of the Universe, who loves with an everlasting love, sees our pain and holds it close to His heart. Our pain is not worthless, but a honing tool in the hands of a Loving God, to bring definition to our characters, light into our darkest places, and His overwhelming love into hearts broken by pain and sorrow. And ultimately, to make us into His image, the Image of His dear son, Jesus Christ.